Chapter Eight: A Question of Consent
Wednesday’s demonstration was scheduled inside the Briar County Civic Center.
Westbridge had withdrawn from the presentation, but the county had already hired Adrian’s vendor to show the public how a digital-first library could operate.
The event was not canceled because the vendor’s contract belonged to a separate procurement department.
I attended as an observer with Nadia and Saira.
Inez and two other mobile library drivers sat in the third row wearing their work jackets.
Outside, residents gathered with handmade signs demanding that the county count actual visitors.
Inside, a large screen displayed a cheerful animated librarian guiding users through an online booking process.
A young presenter named Felix Rowan welcomed the audience and explained that participants could test the new system at demonstration stations.
Six people volunteered.
Two of them could not complete the identity verification step because they lacked the required mobile devices.
One woman entered the wrong code three times and the station locked her out.
Felix laughed nervously and suggested that the system worked better after practice.
A council member asked whether the portal could be accessed from a public computer.
“Certainly,” Felix said.
Inez raised her hand.
“How far is the nearest public computer from Pine Hollow?”
Felix glanced at his notes.
“I don’t have that figure.”
“Forty-two miles if the bridge road is open,” she said.
Another audience member asked how an elderly patron would collect a printed book without a delivery vehicle.
Felix explained that pickup would remain available at branch locations.
The audience began talking over one another.
Preston Hale asked everyone to settle down.
Then Felix introduced a short video labeled RESIDENT SUCCESS STORIES.
Darlene Moss appeared on the screen.
Her picture had been taken at a county workshop the previous spring.
A recorded voice said she was excited to make the transition to digital service.
Darlene stood in the audience.
“That is my face, and those are not my words.”
The room fell silent.
Felix stopped the video.
“Ma’am, this material was provided by the engagement team.”
“Then your engagement team can explain why I’m speaking without opening my mouth.”
Saira stood and identified herself as Westbridge’s counsel.
She stated that the quotation and voiceover were not authorized and that her firm had withdrawn the associated testimonials.
A county communications officer hurried to the projection booth.
Preston asked who had approved the video.
Felix explained that the vendor had produced it under Adrian’s direction.
“Is Adrian Vale here?” Preston asked.
Nobody answered.
Darlene turned toward me.
“You see why I came?”
“I do.”
“Now let me speak myself.”
She walked to the microphone and told the audience about her husband and the books that had helped him through his illness.
She described the difference between reserving a title on a smartphone and having a librarian put it directly into somebody’s hands.
Her voice shook when she spoke about her husband’s final winter, but she did not pause for sympathy.
She finished by asking the county to stop using her photograph to tell a story she had not approved.
The audience applauded until Preston asked them to let the next speaker approach.
Nadia showed the corrected attendance estimates in a technical presentation that was careful about uncertainty.
She explained the counting error and what the county still needed to measure.
“We cannot promise that every route is financially sustainable,” she said.
“We can say that the current recommendation is based on incomplete and altered evidence.”
Several residents challenged her assumptions.
She listened, answered what she could, and recorded the questions she could not.
A schoolteacher asked why the county had to choose between mobile service and digital appointments.
Nobody on the dais had a ready answer.
That question changed the tone of the room more than any of the prepared presentations.
People began proposing combinations instead of defending two rigid camps.
For the first time in weeks, the library’s future seemed like something the county could discuss rather than something our spreadsheets had already decided.
